Expect the Unexpected
by purrpickle
Summary: After spending the night working on a project together, Brittany and Rachel wake up to a situation they never thought possible. Can they figure out how to fix everything before it gets incredibly awkward? Before everything that could go wrong... Does?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Glee nor the characters within. So. New story. Happens when I'm always writing. I'm going to be holding off revealing what pairings shall be in or named in this story due to not wanting to give anything away. Just know there will be femslash, het, and slash. ;} Short, I know, but it's an introduction. Enjoy~

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><p>"Ohhh… My <em>head<em>. Why is someone knocking on it to get in?"

Rachel jerked awake, then wished she hadn't. Her head pounded, and her mouth tasted like mothballs. And for some reason, her whole body felt stiff.

A shape shifted next to her, and the voice that had woken her groaned again. "There's nobody_ in_ there. Ray-chelll, make it _stooooppp_…"

There was something weird about that voice. Slowly rolling over, having to start and stop many times because her stomach seemed to rebel with each tiny movement, Rachel found that it was like her eyes were glued shut. "Brittany?" she muttered, remembering that the blonde had come over the night before to work on a Spanish assignment, "_Ugh_… That you?"

There was silence, and a hand suddenly whacked her shoulder, clumsily moving up to start feeling her face. Huffing, Rachel weathered the storm of impending vomit to blindly reach up and remove it. "_Brittany_," she muttered again, something about her own voice striking her as off, "That _is _you, right?"

"…I thought I was."

"What?"

The body shifted again, a more violent motion than before, and Rachel had to grimace back a moan of pain as her headache bobbed up and down with the mattress, piggybacking the flip flopping of her stomach.

Without any warning, one of her eyelids was suddenly pried open.

"_Aaaaaauuuuugggghhhhhhh_!" Piercing light seared into her retina. "_Brittany_!" she shrieked again, blinking the eye furiously. Bringing up a stiff arm to rub at the burning but overshooting by a couple of inches, it took her a couple of tries to correct the action. "Honestly," she grunted, slowly pressing her fist against her closed eyelid, then sliding over to the other one, "Why would you…?" She trailed off, stopping moving.

The fingers that assaulted her eye suddenly reappeared, sliding her hand away from her face. "Rachel…" the voice that was beginning to sound _too _familiar whispered, "If that _is_ you and not me, open your eyes."

Rachel licked her lips, the mothball taste in her mouth even thicker than before. Pushing down the pounding of her heart, she slowly opened her eyes…

…To see herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel stared at herself. Her brain, making slow leaps of comprehension, suddenly snapped into focus when she saw herself reach out a hand. Screaming, Rachel scrambled backwards, getting tangled in the sheets before falling with a thud onto her shoulders on the carpet. Gagging as her stomach rose into her throat and her shoulders throbbed, too stunned to really register what had happened, the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes were two impossibly long, pale legs splayed against the side of her bed. Following the line of them down, her breath hitched when she saw disproportionate breasts for her body and a thin veil of blonde hair covering her eyesight.

"Britt… Ney…?" she croaked.

Rustling, and Rachel's head and shoulders popped over the edge of the bed. Who must be Brittany looked hesitant, "Are you going to scream again?"

Rachel's face went hot, her body trembled, and she let out a weird breathy sob-laugh.

Taking that as some kind of answer, Brittany smoothly crawled down to join her on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest as she leaned back against the side of the bed, near the legs Rachel still had splayed out. "Do you feel as bad as I do?" she asked curiously.

Rachel shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to look at anything. "I don't know," she husked, her awkward position putting pressure against her lungs. Now that she realized she was truly awake and this was _truly _happening, she couldn't help but mentally take stock of how her… _This_ body felt, top to bottom. Brittany's left calf felt a little stiff, and there was an itch at the base of her head; aside from that and her bruised back and nausea and headache, she felt alright.

"I feel like I did after Santana's dad pumped my stomach."

"Why did he pump your stomach?" she asked, barely paying attention. Her tumble off the bed hadn't helped her headache at all, and it was taking most of her power to prevent herself from hyperventilating at the sound of Brittany's voice coming out of her mouth and her voice coming from someone else's.

"I put too much sand into one of Sue's shakes. It tasted really nasty, but I was too hungry, and I… Drank all of it." Rachel's voice wrinkled up with disgust, "Santana had to drive me to the hospital, and it was really scary because she got so upset with me that she started crying." Brittany paused. Then, in a very quiet, sad voice, she added, "I don't like it when Santana cries…"

Feeling her stomach start to settle and knowing she had to move soon, Rachel slowly pulled her legs off of the bed. "Santana cares about you," she grunted, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. Brittany's body was just too… Long. It was throwing everything she did off.

"Santana cares too much." Sighing, Brittany shifted Rachel's body onto her knees, watching Rachel as she attempted to stand up. She wrinkled her brow. "Did we drink last night?"

"_What_?" Rachel snapped her head up from the bed post she had wrapped one hand around, then immediately looked away again, biting her lip. Looking at herself made her entirely too uncomfortable. "Why?"

Brittany stood up, "Because you're moving like I'm drunk. Or hungover. Or like when I hit my head against the piano last year and forgot how to use a knife for three months."

Rachel gritted her teeth and hauled herself up, almost hugging the bed post as the room swayed. "While you seem to be having no trouble adjusting to my shorter height, the sudden six inch growth I now have to contend with is completely throwing my balance off. I am _hoping_," she groaned, moving to take a seat on her bed, "That your body's muscle memory will kick in soon. Otherwise it's going to be quite exhausting."

Brittany sat down next to her. "Why can't we just switch back?"

Another laugh-sob left Rachel's mouth. "That would be _wonderful _if I knew how it happened in the first place! Because I _don't_ know that, and frankly, I'm not even sure I'm really believing this is happening, you know – in _reality_? – so I am completely and utterly unable to figure out how to do so! If _you _know how, please, by all means, inform me!"

Her words rang in the room, and Rachel immediately dropped her head into her hands, trying to ignore the completely unfamiliar feeling of her face.

Brittany stood up, but she didn't stop her deep, calming breaths. Vaguely aware of her moving around the room and picking things up and down, it wasn't until she heard the distinct sound of someone taking off clothes that Rachel looked up.

"_Brittany_!" she screeched, jaw dropped, "You put that back on!"

"But Rachel…" Brittany looked up from where she had just pulled off the shirt Rachel recognized as the one she had worn to school the day before, leaving Rachel's upper body in just her padded camisole, "It's totally okay because I'm you and you're me."

Shaking her head, Rachel gingerly rose from the bed. Reaching Brittany while trying very hard not to look directly at her, she snatched the shirt from her. "Britt, _no_," she forcefully grabbed Brittany's arms to slide them back into the sleeves, "I cannot even _begin _to express how much I do _not _want you looking at me." The thought of Brittany not only _being _in her body but _seeing _it didn't make her feel any better, both physically and mentally.

Brittany gave her a suffering look, then successfully managed to get away with only one arm sleeved, the shirt hanging from her shoulder. She quickly shrugged it off again. "Rache," she modulated Rachel's voice into sounding like she was chiding a small child, which served to unnerve Rachel greatly, "I don't mind if you look at _me_. You're me, and I'm you, remember?"

Then, with a smile and before Rachel could stop her, Brittany unzipped and pushed Rachel's skirt down.

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><p><strong>AN: **If you're worrying, don't be. There's a reason Brittany's stripping Rachel. It's not just to be pervy. ;}


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Short chapter, but one that needed to be written (though I feel like it sucks, pleh). After we get this stuff out of the way, the fun part will come! Yay!

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><p>"Brittany, you are <em>not <em>allowed to open your eyes."

"Like Christmas morning?"

Smiling faintly, Rachel nodded, "Yes, exactly. Like Christmas morning… If that is what you do on Christmas morning."

Brittany smiled. "Yeah! We're not allowed to look at our stockings until our whole family's awake. Sometimes Lord Tubbington sleeps in, and it's really hard waiting for him."

"…Isn't Lord Tubbington your cat?" Rachel paused from where she was forcing herself to examine her own naked body. It was highly disturbing, but Brittany had insisted that she and Rachel had to see if new, sudden tattoos had appeared on their bodies somewhere that would explain what was happening; after that, if no tattoos, they had to go see if a fortune cookie had caused whatever it was that was going on even though neither remembered having Chinese takeout the night before (in fact, Rachel distinctly remembered making vegetable soup). Then was a voodoo curse, science experiment gone terribly awry, chanting the same phrase at the same time, alien abduction, and Brittany's favorite: sleepwalking.

Rachel was beginning to want to believe _anything_ at this point, because after figuring out that she and Brittany's memories of what had happened before they woke up that morning strangely blanked out in the middle of Rachel educating the blonde that just because a word had double ls in it did not mean it was pronounced as an extra-long l noise, she just wanted to know _something_.

"Yes," Brittany answered happily, unabashedly holding Rachel's body's arms and legs out. "Last year, he got me two tickets to see Lady Gaga in concert, then got really mad when I took Santana instead of him that he puked all over the outfit I was going to wear."

Blushing hotly as she started looking below her waist, Rachel awkwardly wrapped her hand around her two ankles one after another, looking under her feet, "You saw Lady Gaga in concert? When? And no tattoos."

Giggling as Rachel's fingers brushed along her ankle as she pulled away, Brittany blinked her eyes open when Rachel quickly wrapped her robe around her. "Alright!" she barely waited for the robe to be tied before starting to pull the tank top over Rachel's head, "Your turn! It'll be like I'm looking at my own clone!"

Stumbling a little as she ended up bending over a bit more than she planned to with Brittany's enthusiastic yank, Rachel slammed her eyes shut.

"It's okay," Brittany in Rachel's voice chirped, "I don't mind if you look at me."

"Well, _I _mind," Rachel answered through gritted teeth. Apparently Brittany's body was much more ticklish than it looked – even without an ounce of extra fat anywhere on the dancer's body, her nerves and skin were terribly sensitive. As Brittany's attention moved down her body, her breath blew across Rachel's chest, making her squirm. She whimpered to herself. At least now she had a better idea about why Brittany had slept with nearly everyone in the school.

Wait.

"Brittany," Rachel started, slow and measured.

From the area right behind Rachel's ear, Brittany swept the hair off her neck and answered, "Yeah?" Her hands pressed against her shoulders, managing to hoist herself up while also forcing Rachel down a little lower.

"Brittany, I want you to listen to me closely. You have to promise me something."

Brittany dropped back down, then started trailing her hands down Rachel's back. "Oh! I have a freckle in the shape of George Washington!" she giggled.

Rachel had to stop herself from violently face faulting. "_Brittany_."

"And there's Godzilla… Wow. Do I have Tokyo, somewhere?"

"_Brittany Susan Pierce_!"

Brittany's hands froze from where they had been sliding down to grope Rachel's ass. "Rachel… RuPaul…? …Berry?"

Ru… _RuPaul_? "Brittany," she started in a strained voice, "My middle name is Barbra, _not_ RuPaul."

"It's not?" Sounding shocked and confused, Brittany dropped her hands and knelt at Rachel's feet. She picked up her right foot, "Then why do Q and S call you that?"

Clamping down on an insane giggle due to tickling fingers, Rachel grumbled, "You should ask _them _that. No, on second thought, _don't _ask them. You need to promise me something first!"

Brittany sighed, and took a step fully away. "No tattoos," she reported, almost sounding sad.

Keeping her eyes up as most as she could, Rachel wiggled back into the sleepwear Brittany had changed into almost as soon as she'd stepped through the front door last night. At least it was better than the Cheerio uniform.

Rachel's headache came back with a vengeance. The Cheerios. She groaned and shuffled over to the bed to sit down next to Brittany. First things first. If they were going to be stuck in each other's body, there _had_ to be some ground rules.

…Especially about what Brittany would do in Rachel's body.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **A little important information about this fic: This takes place between _A Very Glee Christmas _and _The Sue Sylvester Shuffle_. Also, I have finally decided on the ending pairings. Do you guys wanna know or be surprised?

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><p>From where she was sitting at her desk, Brittany aimlessly humming while pulling Rachel's hair up into a ponytail, Rachel stared as the clock ticked 7:26 am. She knew her fathers, curious as to why she hadn't already come downstairs, Brittany in tow, were going to be knocking on the door to her bedroom soon.<p>

…She was scared.

After spending forty five minutes with Brittany in the shower (something she'd rather not reflect on, thank you very much; though they'd already touched themselves while searching for tattoos, it was a completely different experience when hot water and body wash became involved) and changing into their bodies' respective outfits, they hadn't come any closer to figuring out why they had switched bodies. Nor how to get out of going to school. Because school? School had classes and Cheerios and glee and _people who knew Rachel and Brittany_. Knew how they did and did not act.

Like Brittany's boyfriend. Brittany's best friend. Rachel's… Ex-boyfriend (no, she wasn't going to think about that). Everyone in glee. Sue Sylvester! Rachel didn't know how she was going to fake Sue's routines! Even if Brittany gave her a crash course, she still hadn't quite gotten the hang of her height yet.

7:27 am.

Rachel groaned. The high ponytail was pulling at her scalp.

"There," Brittany swung Rachel around in the swivel chair so she could check her from the front, "Sue shouldn't hold you down and shave me."

Rachel stared at her – at _herself _– and dropped her head. "Brittany?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

"Remember what I told you?"

"That I couldn't flirt, have sexy fun times, hug, or even touch anyone." Brittany paused, her voice full of an unhappy pout. "Why can't I touch anyone?"

"Because!" Bracing her palm onto her desk, Rachel stood up. Ineffectively pulling down on the Cheerio skirt, she distracted herself by straightening the black bowtie on Brittany's shirt. Scanning the rest of her outfit, Rachel paused. "Brittany! The leg warmers aren't for your arms!"

Brittany stared at her. "But my arms are cold. And I don't like any of your jackets." Walking past Rachel, she studied herself in the full-length mirror next to the desk. "Your ass looks hot in these jeans. Why don't you ever wear them?"

"I…" Rachel blinked, then glanced at the clock. 7:29 am. Turning back to Brittany, she thought quickly. There wasn't a nice way to say that she'd practically shoved the jeans at the other girl when she'd found them because she was afraid what could possibly happen if she wore a skirt to school and forgot that she _wasn't _in a Cheerio's uniform. "That doesn't matter right now. We have to go downstairs. And take off the leg warmers!"

Brittany pouted at her, crossing her arms. "Do you have any hats?"

Talking with Brittany was being more difficult than Rachel anticipated. Especially about her fashion, and what Rachel would and would not wear. The other girl had seemed fascinated with Rachel's wardrobe, grabbing the strangest things and insulting many things Rachel loved. Now hats? "I think my fathers might have a baseball cap somewhere, but that's really not me, you know, and we're trying to keep you me – "

"Ew."

Rachel blinked. That wasn't very nice. "I am not _ew_! You're stuck in that body – _my _body, Brittany, and I would appreciate you not insulting – "

Brittany stared at her again, tilting Rachel's head, "I wasn't talking about you, Rachel. Baseball hats. Ew. How would one even fit on my head?" She paused. "Hey, how come baseball gloves are so big? Baseballs don't even have hands!"

Rachel almost started crying. No one would ever… Brittany… Her reputation! And what about scouts? Directors? If her big break came along!

A small hand slipped into hers, "Rachel? Are you okay?" right as knuckles rapped against the door. "Honey?" her dad's voice came through, muffled, "Breakfast's all set up in the kitchen, since I didn't see you getting any earlier. Brittany's welcome to it as well, of course."

Brittany smiled at Rachel, squeezing her hand.

Rachel stared back. Eyes wide and flicking towards the door, she mouthed, 'answer him'. When Brittany continued smiling aimlessly at her, she pulled back her hand to gesture at the door, then at herself. 'My dad! You… _Me_.'

"Oh! Yes. Uhm… Sure… Pop?"

"_Dad_!" Rachel harshly whispered.

"Dad! See you, Dad!" Brittany grinned widely, eyes sparkling. After Jonathon Berry offered a slow, "Alright, honey. When you're ready, just come down," she surged forward and hugged Rachel. "See!" she giggled, "I can _so _be you!"

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><p>Somehow they'd managed to avoid her fathers. Even though Brittany had immediately dove towards Rachel's daddy's bacon, Rachel had managed to whisk her away while scooping up two apples before the meat theft had been noticed. She'd then proceeded to lecture Brittany about being vegan and that Rachel would appreciate it if she continued that diet while in Rachel's body. Brittany had listened in silence, munching on her bacon and apple (sometimes at the same time, which made Rachel's stomach curdle), only to offer, when Rachel was all done, that Rachel couldn't be vegan because Brittany hadn't been one since she was fourteen, but don't worry, because even if she thought it personally stupid, she'd try to remember to eat all that boring food because Rachel wouldn't put out. She'd then smiled at Rachel, telling her that even if she loved Artie and he was <em>her <em>boyfriend, not Rachel's, Rachel could go ahead and sleep with him if she wanted to see what sex was like. He would just lie there, but that was fine, because she'd taught him how to be really good with his mouth and fingers, even if Santana was a million times better – oh, but Rachel wasn't supposed to tell him about Santana because he would get angry and angry sex with him was still pretty boring.

In the middle of her ramble, Rachel reached over and slapped Brittany's stereo system, immediately blasting whatever was the last thing playing because honestly, thinking about having sex with Artie was _not _something she wanted to do. This resulted in the two of them pulling into the McKinley High parking lot to the sounds of Lil Wayne. She was almost certain it had to be Santana's CD. Whosever's it was, at least it got Brittany to shut up.

Pulling into the parking spot marked as Cheerio Mallory Newsome's (because that was the one Brittany insisted was hers), Rachel shut off the stereo, then the car, ran her hands over her – _Brittany's_ – face, and turned to Brittany, who was just finishing up her apple. "Okay, Brittany," she grabbed Brittany's backpack from the backseat, pulling out Brittany's notebook she'd pilfered earlier, "When you were messing up my carefully sorted closet, I took the liberty of writing down all of the rules I made for you. Please, keep these on your person and refer to them _often_. And, please, please, _please_." She took Brittany's hand, trying to ignore, again, the weirdness that was holding her own hand, "Talk as little as possible and don't answer any questions in class."

Brittany frowned. "But I don't answer questions in class anyway."

Rachel smiled manically. "Splendid. However, if you _do _get called on, defer the question onto someone else."

"Shave someone?" Brittany asked in alarm. "But I don't know where Sue keeps her razor!"

Taking a deep breath, Rachel shook her head and handed Brittany the list, watching carefully as she folded it and put it into her jeans pocket, "Defer. D-e-f-e-r. Not de-fur, d-e-f-u-r. Just say someone else should answer it."

Brittany sighed, dipping her head. "Why didn't you say that in the first place? Okay." Before Rachel could answer that question, she sat up, "Rachel, it'll be okay. I promise. After all." She unbuckled and opened the car door. Pulling Rachel's wheeled backpack out and sliding out the handle, she smiled widely at her, "What could be so hard about being you?"

A second later, a passing jock threw a slushie into her face.

Wincing, Rachel got out of the car herself. Closing the door and locking it, then doing the same with the passenger side door, she walked over to where Brittany looked like she was going to start crying. She gently took her arm, "C'mon, Britts, let's get you to the bathroom."

Brittany nodded, lower lip trembling as blue slushie dripped down her face. "This…"

Rachel nodded. "I know. It's cold and it stings. Welcome to the life of Rachel Berry. …And I told you to take off the leg warmers!"


	5. Chapter 5

Eventually, Rachel allowed Brittany to continue wearing the leg warmers because the girl _hadn't _brought a jacket, and Rachel's emergency slushie change of clothes didn't contain one, either. It wasn't like most of the school masses didn't make fun of her for her clothing anyway, so why care about something else that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't matter? (At least, that's what Rachel told herself because she'd finally gotten tired of telling Brittany to do something she wouldn't do.)

Fortunately, her jeans hadn't taken any of the assault, and with a thorough washing of her hair, along with changing into another ribboned shirt (which finally made Brittany smile), the two girls were once again preparing for a day Rachel was convinced was going to take all of her acting ability to make it through. Sticking her head out of the bathroom door, she scanned the hallway before firming her expression and nodding determinedly. "All right," she slipped her arm through Brittany's, "If you stick with me, no one should slushie you again. Now, let's go to my locker." To be truthful, though it still unsettled her to no end that she was holding onto herself, doing so helped her with her moments of imbalance.

"Mine? Or yours?" Brittany asked, "Because I can never tell if you're talking about yourself or me when you say 'me' or 'mine'."

Rachel reined in the rolling of her eyes. "_My _locker."

"Yeah; yours or mine? Or is it _mine_ and _yours _now…?"

Coming to a stop in front of _her _locker, not Brittany's, Rachel detached from the other girl's arm. Making quick work of the lock, she swung it open. "Does this look like _your _locker, Brittany?"

Squinting, Brittany tilted her head. "No…" she started, "But then, it could have been the locker sprites again. Last month they rearranged my whole locker to look like Karofsky's, and made his look like mine. He kept on telling me I was at the wrong locker, but I knew it was the sprites because I had forgotten to leave them cheese the night before. …Did I forget cheese again?"

Unsure how to respond to that, Rachel forced herself to mentally shake herself back on topic, and turned back to her locker, blanching at how different it looked from a taller height. Instructing Brittany to unzip her backpack, she started pulling out everything she'd need for her classes, switching out some of the extra books she'd taken home the day before. Right as she was taking another look around her locker and vowing to bring a duster to school (it really was _amazing _what the extra inches were allowing her to see), a thin, firm body pushed itself in between Rachel and Brittany.

"B," Santana leaned confidently against the locker next to Rachel's, keeping her back to Brittany and completely blocking her out, "A strange little creature bugging you?"

Rachel's eyes flicked back in time to notice the hurt expression that crossed Brittany's face. Mind racing, trying to figure out some way to deal with this situation, she straightened. "Sa-S?" she stuttered.

"Strange little creature."

Rachel continued staring at her.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Alright, I'mma take care of this." Fastening a false smile on her face, she turned around. "Rachel. Hi."

Having been on the end of that sugary-sweet tone before, Rachel knew what was going to happen. She reached out to touch Santana's shoulder, "San-"

"I _got _this," Santana repeated, turning her head to stare at Rachel for a second before turning back to Brittany. She tossed her hair. "Hello, Berry."

From where she'd been staring up at Santana with large, sad doe eyes, Brittany perked up. "San!" she chirped, "You'll never guess what happened to me last night."

Hurrying around to Santana's side, Rachel caught the sneer on Santana's face. "Like _anybody _cares what you did last night. What are you doing, talking to Brittany?"

Brittany's face fell. "Talking to Brittany…? But _I'm_ Brittany – "

" – 's Spanish tutor," Rachel blurted, bringing Santana's attention to her. "The, er – the – everything confuses me."

"But you're teaching _me_," Brittany mumbled, letting out an, "Oh! Oh yeah, yeah, I'm teaching her," and nodding wildly after Rachel quickly kicked her foot, mouthing, 'You, _me,_' for the nth time.

Santana stared at the interaction between them silently, lines growing on her forehead as her expression turned concerned and confused. "Spanish? _You're_… Tutoring her in… _Spanish_?"

Flicking her gaze to Rachel to check for a nod or shake of her head, a bright smile passed Brittany's face. "Yes," she almost bounced up and down on her toes.

Santana took a deep breath. "Hobbit," she stated lowly, "Scram."

Uh oh. "Rachel," Rachel took a step forward to put herself in between Santana and Brittany, heart squeezing at the puzzled, almost lost look on her face. When Brittany started chewing on her bottom lip, Rachel winced, but knew she couldn't say anything about it at that moment; she filed it away, hoping to be able to ease it into casual conversation later. "Rachel, isn't it almost time for glee? Weren't you telling me you wanted to do that… Thing…?"

"Thing?" Brittany mumbled, finally dropping her head and nodding. "Okay, whatever. See you later, Santana." Taking Rachel's backpack by the handle, she slunked off, managing to still send Santana small, morose looks over her shoulder.

"Okay, what. The. Hell?" Santana rounded on Rachel, glaring at her.

Rachel gave her a hesitant smile.

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><p>The door slammed behind her. Stumbling back into it when Santana let go of the arm she'd grabbed to drag her down the hallway and into the janitor's closet, Rachel pushed her hand against it to steady herself. "San?" she gasped, mind frantically trying to figure out just what she'd gotten into and how she could get out of it. But from the looks of it, even if she was the one nearest the door, Santana wouldn't let her leave. Unbidden, she started to feel her heartbeat pick up. With Santana (and especially as she wasn't Rachel but 'Brittany' at the moment), there was no telling what the other girl would do.<p>

Santana shook her head. Standing with her back to Rachel, she slowly turned around. "You went to Rachel?" Santana asked, tone still light but with something threatening the edges.

Rachel couldn't make out her expression, and the slight shock at hearing her name issued from those lips without herself being, seemingly, _around_, almost threw her. But what to answer? She decided to take the safe option. "Went to Rachel for what?"

"Spanish."

Spanish? "Uhm… Yes. Mr. Schuester told me to meet with her." That was the truth without specific pronouns. Maybe if she kept it vague, she wouldn't trip herself up.

Santana bobbed her head. "I speak Spanish, Brittany! I've _taught _you Spanish! Why are you going to _the hobbit_?"

"Because Mr. Schuester told me to?" Rachel asked.

"_Fuck_ Mr. Schuester! You need Spanish, you come to me. Rachel's not even _in _your Spanish class. I am. You _know _you copy off of _me_!"

Well, now she did. Still, the look in Santana's eyes was starting to make Rachel shift uneasily on her feet. "Okay," she tried to placate, "I'll copy off of you."

"You better." Huffing, Santana crossed her arms, eyeing Rachel with an expression that suddenly turned hungry. "Okay, B," the now shorter girl almost purred, doing what couldn't be called anything else than stalking forward, "You know how hot getting angry makes me."

"I… I do?" Eyes widening, Rachel took a step backwards, bumping into the door. What… What was Santana _doing_?"

"And you know it's been a while since we've gotten our mack on."

Oh my goodness. Her pulse racing even faster than it had since they'd entered the closet, Rachel found herself freezing.

A lecherous smirk curled on Santana's mouth, and she smoothly entered Rachel's personal space. She slid her hands around Rachel's waist, Brittany's torturously sensitive body doing nothing to kick-start Rachel's resolve to _seriously _try to extract herself from this situation.

Studying her, Santana leaned up. "So what are you waiting for, B?" she quirked her eyebrows, giving Rachel a seductive look, "I wants _on _them lips. And I wants on them _now_."


End file.
